Ann Mayo Muir

·Ed Trickett Gordon Bok

TURNING TOWARD THE MORNING

FSl-56

FOLK-LEGACY RECORDS, INC.

SHARON, (ONNE<Tl<UT 06069

FOLIC•LEGAC7 RECORDS, INC.

Ann Mayo Muir

Ed Trickett Gordon Bok

TURNING TOWARD THE MORNING

FSl-56

Three outstanding solo artists have joined together to create this album, each contributed his or her talent to enhance the music of the others in whatever way seemed appropriate to the song being performed. For example, on the title song, sung by Gordon Bok, accom­panying himself on 12-string guitar, Ed adds a remark­ably gentle hammered dulcimer, while he and Annie both sing harmony on the chorus. "The Wind that Shakes the Barley" is sung by Ed, with Gordon playing an obbligato on one of his hand-made 'Bokwhistles.' Annie does "Sunday Morning" by herself, as it seemed to be such a personal statement that any additional voice or instrument would have been an unnecessary intrusion.

The result is an album of wonderfully varied vocal and instrumental texture, fashioned into a coherent whole by the integrity of impeccable taste. The songs range from the English traditional lyric, through Ireland and Australia (with a side trip to Peru), to several fine contemporary songs, two of which were written by Gordon Bok.

Side One: THREE SCORE ANO TEN I DREW MY SHIP ST. ANNE'S REEL & OVER THE WATERFALL THE WINO THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY ISLE AU HAUT LULLABY (HAY LEDGE SONG) HOW CAN I KEEP FROM SINGING

Side Two: THE HORN OF THE HUNTER

THE COCKY AT BUNGAREE

SLOW DANCE FROM MACHU PICCHU

GENTLE ANNIE

SUNDAY MORNING

TURNING TOWARD THE MORNING

®.1975 FOLK-LEGACY RECORDS, INC.

Sharon, Connecticut 06069

co11e, photo : Mary Lo11 Estabrook

_Ann ma'lo rf/uir

{:J Jrickett (Jordon /Joh

.,

''Turning

Toward The

Morning''

FSI -56

• © 1975

FOLK-LEGACY RECORDS, INC. SHARON , CONNECTICUT 06069

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A BRIEF HISTORICAL SUMMARY:

Annie Muir and Gordon Bok first met in 1961, when both were fulfilling singing engagements in Vermont. Ever since, off and on, they have sung together when­ever it was possible.

In 1962, Annie met Ed Trickett at a musical gather­ing at Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut, where Ed was a student. Convinced that Gordon and Ed ought to know one another, Annie arranged for them to meet "in absentia" thro~gh an exchange of tapes. Gordon was work­ing as a sailor along the northeast coast; Ed was heading for Ohio, Colorado and California to do his doctoral and post-doctoral work in psychology. For seven years they corresponded, swapping songs by tape, but it was ~ot until Ed returned to Connecticut in 1969 that he and Gordon man­aged to actually get tbgether to make music "live," as they say.

Over the years of their friendships, the three have explored their remarkable musical affinity as frequently as time and circumstances have permitted. In the Spring of 1975, they arranged to share a series of joint concerts, and it was from these that the concept of this recording developed.

Perhaps it should be pointed out that the thr.ee are not a "trio" in the conventional sense. Even when they share a concert stage, each retains his or her separate musical identity. Indeed, they perform as many numbers as soloists as they do as a "group," joining together for others in any one of the various vocal and instrumental combinations that are possible when three very versatile artists merge their talents out of mutual affection and respect.

S.P.

- 1 -

Side I, Band 1. THREESCORE AND TEN

We still lose men and vessels from our coastal fleet (re­cently I heard a ballad about the loss, last winter, of the R. V. Gulf Stream), so this song is still timely to many of us. John Conolly, of Grimsby, writes of this song:

"In the lBB0's, a series of great gales wrecked hundreds of fishing boats along the East coast of Britain, and many men were lost. William Delf was a Grimsby fisherman who tried to help the widows and orphans by writing poems' about these disasters and selling copies of them, the proceeds going to the de­pendents of the men lost at sea. The "Threescore and Ten" poem was one of his better efforts, but nobody seems to know how it acquired a tune and a chorus.

"The song as it is now known was discovered by a Yorkshire collector, Mr. Nigel Hudlestone. He re­corded it as sung by some fishermen at Filey, on the Yorkshire coast about 100 miles north of Grimsby."

I learned this from quite a variety of sources over the years. (GB)

Methinks I see a host of craft, spreading their sails alee, As down the Humber they do glide, all bound for the North­

ern sea; Methinks I see on each small craft a crew with hearts so

brave Going out to earn their daily bread upon the restless wav e .

And it's thr e escore and t e n, boys and men, we r e lost fr om Grimsby t own;

From Yarmouth down to Scarborough, many hundr eds mor e were dro1JJned.

Our herring-craft, our trawl ers, our fishing-smacks as well,

They long did fight, that bitter night, th e ir battl e with th e sw e ll.

Methinks I see th em y e t again as th e y l eave this land b e hind,

Casting th e ir n e ts into t he s ea, the h erring shoals* to find;

Methinks I s ee th em y e t again, and th e y on board all right, With their nets hov e in and th e ir decks c l ean e d up, and

their side li ghts burning bright.

chorus . .. *schools

- 2 -

Methinks I hear the Captain say, "My lads, we'll shorten sail,

For the sky, to all appearances, looks like approaching gale."

Methinks I see then yet again, and the midnight hour was past;

Their little craft a-battling there all with the icy blast.

chorus ...

October's night brought such a sight, 'twas never seen before -

There 'was masts and yards a~d broken spars come a-driving in to shore.

There was many a heart of sorrow, there was many a heart so brave,

There was many a fine ·and a hearty lad to find a watery grave.

chorus ...

Side I, Band 2.

Gordon Bok: 12-string & lead vocal Ed Trickett: 6-string & vocal Ann Muir: vocal

I DREW MY SHIP

This beautiful song was taught to me by Joe Hickerson. It has been recorded by Shirley Collins on Folkways Records, and it appears in Northumbrian Minstrelsy, edited by Bruce and Stokoe. The first verse comes from Stephen Sedley's book The Seeds of Love. (ET)

Oh, I will put my ship in order And I wilZ set it on the sea, And I will sail to yonders harbor To see if my love minds on me.

I drew my ship into the harbor, I drew it up where my true love lay. I drew it close by into her window To listen what my love did say.

"Who's that who knocks loud at my window? Who knocks so loud and would come in?" "It is your true love who loves you dearly, Then rise, love, and let me in."

- 3 -

So slowly, slowly got she up, And slowly, slowly came she down, But before she got the door unlocked, Her true love had both come and gone.

He's brisk and braw, he's far away, He's far beyond the raging ma&n Where bright eyes glancing and fishers dancing Have made him quite forget his own.

- repeat first verse ...

Ed Trickett: guitar & lead Gordon Bok: whistle & vocal Ann Muir: vocal

Side I, Band 3. ST. ANNE'S REEL & OVER THE WATERFALL

"St. Anne's Reel" (or "Saint-Ann" - as they call it at home) is quite a common tune around Maine and the Maritimes, and well to the Westward, too, I notice. I learned it from playing with the Old New Englanders, a group of local musicians who used to get together to play on the little radio station in the next town. (GB) Alan Jabbour notes that "Over the Water­fall" is a "charming reworking of an old British tune, some­times called 'The Job of Journeywork,' well on its way to be­coming a new melody." (SP)

Gordon Bok: guitar Ed Trickett: hammered dulcimer Ann Muir>: 'Bokwhis t le'

Side I, Band 4. THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY

I learned this song several years ago from Cliff Haslam, who, I believe, learned it from the singing of Martin earthy. (ET) Robert Dwyer Joyce (1830-1883), a poet of the Fenian movement, wrote the song. (SP)

I sat within a valley green, Sat there with my true love, And my fond hear>t strove to choose between The old love and the new love. The old for her>, the new that made Me think on Ireland dearly, While soft the wind blew down the glade And shook the golden barley.

- 4 -

'Twas hard the mournful words to frame, To break the ties that bound us. Ah, but harder still to bear the shame Of foreign chains around us. And so I said, "The mountain glen I'll seek at morning early, And join the brave United Men," While soft wind shook the barley.

'Twas sad I kissed away her tears, Her arms around me clinging, ~ When to my ears that fateful shot Come out the wild wood ringing. The bullet pierced my true love's breast, In life's young spring so early, And there upon my breast she died, While soft wind shook the barley.

I bore her to some mountain stream, And many's the summer blossom I placed with branches soft and green About her gore-stained bosom. I wept and kissed her clay-cold corpse, Then rushed o'er vale and valley My vengeance on the foe to wreak While soft wind shook the barley.

'Twas blood for blood, without remorse, I took at Ourlet (Oulart) Hollow. I placed my true love's clay-cold corpse Where mine full soon may follow. Around her grave I wandered drear, Noon, night, and morning early, With aching heart whene'er I hear The wind that shakes the barley.

Side I, Band 5.

Ed Trickett; vocal Gordon Bok: 'Bokwhistle'

ISLE AU HAUT LULLABY (Hay Ledge Song)

The melody of this song was composed one day on a schooner while beating past a small grassy island called Hay Ledge, for Capt. Havilah Hawkins, who bet me I couldn't write a tune as uncomplicated as the island. The words came together one pretty night going across that same bay in my own boat, for a young one who was asleep below in the cabin, and who never heard it sung. Ed and Annie reminded me of this song over the years, and kept it going while I had all but forgotten it. (GB)

- 5 -

Ann Muir: lead vocal Gordon Bok: 12-string and vocal Ed Trickett: 6-string and vocal

If I could give you three things, I would give you these: Song and laughter and a wooden home In the shining -sea-s-.

When you see old Isle au Haut Rising in the dawn, ; You will play in yellow fields In the morning sun.

Sleep where the wind is warm And the moon is high. Give sadness to the stars, Sorrow to the sky.

When you see ...

Do you hear what the sails are say&ng In the wind's dark song? Give sadness to the wind, Blown alee and gone.

When you see ...

Sleep now, the moon is high And the wind blows cold; For you are sad and young And the sea is old.

When you see ...

If I could give you three things, f would give you these: So~g and laughter and a wo oden home In the shining seas.

Side I, Band 6. HOW CAN I KEEP FROM~SINGING .,._ --.....

I learned this song from Vince and Kathy DeFrancis in Den­ver in 1966. It can be found in SING OUT!, Vol. 7, No. 1, 1957. (ET) Pete Seeger helped to make this song f'airly well-known in the folk-revival. He learned it from Doris Plenn, who had it from her North Carolina family. Mrs. Plenn now makes her home here in Sharon, Connecticut, where Folk-Legacy also lives. (SP)

- 6 -

Ann Muir: lead Ed Trickett: tenor Gordon Bok: bass

My life flows on in endless song Above earth's lamentation. I hear the real, though far off hymn That hails a new creation.

Above the tumult and the strife, I hear its music ringing; It sounds an echo in ~my soul. How can I keep from singing?

What though the tempest loudly roars, I hear the truth, it liveth. What though the darkness round me close, Songs in the nights it giveth.

No storm can shake my inmost calm While to that rock I'm clinging. Since love is lord of Heaven and earth, How can I keep from singing?

When tyrants tremble, sick with fear, And hear their death-knell ringing, When friends rejoice both far and near, How can I keep from singing?

In prison cell and dungeon vile Our thoughts to them are winging. When friends by shame are undefiled, How can I keep from singing?

repeat first verse

Side II, Band 1. THE HORN OF THE HUNTER

"The Horn of the Hunter" is one of the oldest and most widely sung songs from the Lakeland area in England - a post­humous tribute to John Peel. The song appears in English Dance and Song, 31 (2), 1969, but I first heard it five years ago when Michael Cooney said, "I've got a song for·you," and did. The Watersons have recently recorded a variant of the American song "Old Shep" to the same tune. (ET)

Ed Trickett: lead voice and guitar Gordon Bok: 6-string guitar & voice Ann Muir: voice

Fqr forty long years have we known him, Cumberland yeoman of old, And twice forty years sh~ll have perished Ere the fame of his deeds shall grow cold~

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No broadcloth of scarlet adorned him, No buckskin as white as the snow. Of plain Skiddaw grey was his garment, And he wore it for work, not for show.

Now the horn of the hunter is silent; On the banks of the Ellen no more, No more will we hear its wild echo, Clear sound o'er the dark Caldews roar.

When dark draws her mantle around us And cold by the fire bids us steal, Our children will say, "Father, tell us Some tales of the famous John Peel."

And we'll telif:.- them of Ranter and Royal, Of Britai1;,l~nd Melody, too,. How they . ra_tt led a fox round the Carro ck And drovi .him from scent into view.

Now the horn ...

How often from Branthwait to Skiddaw, Through Isel, Bewaldeth, Whitefield, We galloped like madmen together To follow the hounds of John Peel.

And though we may hunt with another Till the hand of old age bids us yield, We will think- ·on that sportsman and brother, And remember the hounds of John Peel.

Now the horn . .. / ,,

Side II, Band 2. THE COCKY AT BUNGAREE

I don't know much about this song, except that a "cocky" is a farmer (in Australia) and the hero should have known what he was getting into. It was taught to me by my friend Ray Wales, now of Perth, Australia. (GB)

Gordon Bok: 12-string and voice Ann Muir: 'Bokwhistle'

Come all you weary travellers that's out of work, just mind, And take a trip to Bungaree and plenty there you'll find. Have a trial with the cockies, you can take it straight

from me, You'll very likely rue the day that you first saw Bungaree.

- 8 -

And how I came this weary way I soon will let you know: Being out of employment, I didn't know where to go, So I went to the registry office, boys, and it's there

I did agree To take a job at clearing for the cocky at Bungaree.

On a thirsty Monday morning, mates, it was the usual go: He called me to me breakfast before the cock did crow. The stars did shine most gloriously and the moon was high,

you see, And I thought before th~ sun would rise I would die in

Bungaree.

Well, after about a week of that, I reckons I'd had enough,

So I went straight up to the cocky's door and I asked him for me stuff,*

And I went straight in to Bellallat, but it didn't last me long;

I went straight in to the Railway Hotel and I blew me one-pound-one.

repeat first verse

*p9-y

Side II, Band 3. SLOW DANCE FROM MACHU PICCHU (Peru)

I heard this dahce from the Machu Picchu area of Peru .on a tape made · there by a friend.* It was played on the local cane flutes and assorted other instruments; our version is my reconstruction of it from memory. The only conscious change we made was to shorten up the pattern in the first two pa:rts. In the last part (where the whistle duet begins again) yqu can hear:.the full pattern as I remember it. '

We ~lso used what instruments we had: high whistle i Annie Muir, low whistle= Pat Bok, high guitar= Gordon Bok, l◊w guitar= Ed Trickett.** Only those who know and love tradition­al South American music will know how much of this is lost-in­translation, but we hope the joy and dignity of the tune will come through to hold you as it has held us. (GB) '

* This friend now lives in Brazil, but I'm trying to find 9ut the name of the melod3/ .. and the. excellent local group th~:!-:. P.~r­formed the song. Wh~n I : ~~ tpis in£ormation will be on fil~ at Folk-Legacy. ·

** Whistles by Gordon Bok, guitars by Nick Apollonio.

- 9 -

Side II, Band 4. GENTLE ANNIE

The original song, "Gentle Annie," seems to have been written by Stephen Foster in 1856. Like many good songs, it found its way to Australia, where it took on local refer­ences and, perhaps, a more ambiguously sensual flavor. It appeared in print in Vol. I, no. e, (1964) of Australian Tradition, and was recorded by Martyn Wyndham-Read. Joe Hickerson learned this song from his singing, and I learned it from Joe several years ago. Some say the song describes a warm conversation of farewell between a field hand and a young girl, possibly a daughter of the family who owned the land. Some say otherwise. (ET)

Ed Trickett: lead voice & guitar Gordon Bok: voiae and guitar Ann Muir: voice

The harvest time's come, gentle Annie, And your wild oats are all scattered round the field. You'll be anxious to know, gentle Annie, How your little crop of oats is going to yield.

We'll say farewell, gentle Annie, For you know with you I can no longer stay. Yes, I'll bid you adieu, gentle Annie, Till we meet you on another .threshing day.

Your mutton's very sweet, gentle Annie, And I'm sure it can't be packed in New South Wales, But you'd better put a fence around the cabbage Or they'll all get eaten up by the snails.

We'll say farewell ....

You'll take my advice, gentle Annie, And you'd better watch your chappie goin' away With his packbag flung over his shoulder, And he stole some knives and forks the ~ther day~

We'll say farewell ....

The bullocks they are yoked, gentle Annie, For you know with you I can no longer stay. So I'll bid you adieu, gentle Annie, Till we meet you on another threshing day.

We'll say farewell ....

- 10 -

Side II, Band 5. SUNDAY MORNING

This song speaks of a simple, unshakeable faith. As it begins, a young child is sitting in church for the very first time. Noel Stookey, who wrote this song with J. Mason and K. Gold, calls it simply "Hymn." (AM)

Ann Muir: voice and 'Bell'

Sunday morning, very bright, I read your book by colored light; It came in through the pretty window picture.

I visited some houses Where they said that you were living, And they talked a lot about you, And they spoke about your giving. They passed a basket with some envelopes; I just had time to write a note, And all it said was, "I believe in you."

Passing conversations, Where they mentioned your existence, And the fact that you had been Replaced by your assistants. The discussion was Theology, And when they turned and smiled at me, All that I could say was, "I believ~ in you."

I visited your house again On Christmas and Thanksgiving; And a balded man said you were dead, But th e house would go on living. He recited poetry, And when he saw me stand to leave, He shook his head and said I'd never find you.

My mother used to dress me up, And while my dad was sleeping, We'd walk down to your house Without speaking.

Side II, Band 6. TURNING TOWARD THE MORNING

One of the things that provoked this song was a letter last November from a friend who had had a very difficult year and was looking for the courage to keep on plowing into it. Those times, you lift your eyes unto the hills, as they say, but the hills of Northern New England in November can be about as much comfort as a cold crowbar.

- 11 -

You have to look ahead a bit, then, and realize that all the hill~ and trees and flowers will still be there come Spring, usually more permanent than your troubles . And, if you courage occasi6nally fails, that's okay, too: nobody expects you to be as strong (or as old) as the land. (GB)

Gordon Bok: lead voice & 12-string guitar Ed Trickett: voice and hammered dulcimer Ann Muir: voice

When the deer has bedded down And the bear has gone to gr~und, And the northern goose has wandered off To warmer bay and sound, It's so easy in the cold to feel The darkness of the year And the heart is growing lonely For the morning.

Oh, my Joanie, don't you know That the stars are swinging slow, And the seas are rolling easy As they did so long ago? If I had a thing to give you, I would tell you one more time That the world is always turning Toward the morning.

Now October's growing thin And November's coming home; You'll be thinking of the season And the sad things that you've seen, And you hear that old wind walking, Hear him singing high and thin, You could swear he's out there singing Of your sorrows.

Oh, my Joanie ....

When the darkness falls around yo~ And the Northwind comes to blow, And you hear him call your name out As he walks the brittle snow: That old wind don't mean you trouble, He don't care or even know, He's just walking down the darkness Toward the morning.

Oh, my Joanie ....

- 12 -

It's a pity we don't know What the little flower~ know. They can't face the cold November, They can't take the wind and snow: They put their glories all behind them, Bow their heads and let it go, But you know they'll be there shining In the morning.

Oh, my Joanie ....

Now, my Joanie, don't you know That the days are rolling slow, And the winter's walking easy, As he did so long ago? And, if that wind should come and ask you, "Why's my Joanie weeping so?" Won't you tell him that you're weeping For the morning?

Oh, my Joanie ....

A NOTE ON THE INSTRUMENTS:

A 'Bokwhistle' is a form of traditional 6-hole whistle designed and built by Gordon Bok.

The 'Bell" is a small, bell-shaped 12-string guitar developed for Annie Muir by Gordon Bok, Sam Tibbetts, and Nick Apollonio, of Camden, Maine.

Ed Trickett's hammered dulcimer was made by Howie Mitchel~.

- 13 -

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